


Apparition

by draculard



Category: Sometimes They Come Back (1991)
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Malevolent Flirting, Sort of underage but I mean..., Teacher-Student Relationship, Technically Richard is several years older than Jim, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 19:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20626007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: "Why do you keep staring at me, Mr. Norman?"





	Apparition

“Why do you keep staring at me, Mr. Norman?”

They’re alone in the classroom; detention tonight holds only one student captive — Richard Lawson, and Jim is his required chaperone. They sit with Jim’s desk between them, with Richard still sprawled in the little schoolhouse chair all students are given. It looks particularly small compared to him; even now, even as an adult, Jim still sees Richard as bigger than him, as older.

There’s no one here but them now. He could answer the question honestly. He could confront his ghosts right now.

Instead, he says, “Eyes on your homework, Lawson.”

He pretends not to see the smirk that crosses Richard’s face at that. Jim keeps his own eyes glued to the essays he’s grading — miserable, mind-numbing efforts that don’t do anything to help distract him. Absently, he underlines the word ‘penultimate,’ used admirably but incorrectly by one of his seniors.

“I bet I can guess,” says Richard. He sits there, waiting for Jim to rise to the bait. When Jim continues grading essays, Richard slides out of his seat and slinks up to the front of the classroom. His hips move with the kind of swagger the boys on the football team are always trying to emulate; none of them has ever quite gotten it right, but for Richard, it seems to be a natural part of him, no more difficult than breathing.

He leans over Jim’s desk. A shadow crosses the essays; the smell of leather and hair grease invades Jim’s nose.

“Step back, Lawson,” Jim says. His voice isn’t quite as steady as he’d like it to be.

“Why?” says Richard. “Do I make you nervous?”

Slowly, Jim closes his eyes and leans back in his seat. He can feel a headache throbbing at his temples, threatening to explode across his skull. Everything about Richard should be ridiculous — the outdated greaser style, the old-fashioned local accent which has been erased in today’s teens by the flat vowels used on TV.

Jim tells himself there’s nothing scary about a teenager trying to play gangster. But he hears the faint sound of a train whistle blowing, feels blood slick on his hands, and he can’t quite manage to convince himself that’s true.

“I bet I can guess,” says Richard again. He’s moved in closer; his voice is a whisper, his lips too close to Jim’s ear, sending a chill down the back of his neck. “I’ve been staring at you, too.”

When Jim finally opens his eyes, the classroom is empty.

Richard is gone.


End file.
